


The Blind Tiger

by DameSchnee123



Category: RWBY
Genre: Anti-Faunus Racism (RWBY), Canon Compliant, Faunus Culture, Multi, White Fang, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 07:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameSchnee123/pseuds/DameSchnee123
Summary: Sienna Khan, the cunning, charismatic High Leader of the White Fang. Many know of her but few can say they truly know her. What shaped the life of this brave woman ? Come, and listen to her story.
Relationships: Ghira Belladonna/Kali Belladonna, Sienna Khan/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	The Blind Tiger

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone ! Glad you decided to come with me on this journey. I really loved the concept of Sienna's character and decided to explore it here as well as Menagerie's culture written with my interpretations and some ideas taken from Fairytales of Remnant. I hope you enjoy this. I wrote it for myself but you're free to hop on for the ride.

•⊰━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━⊱•

“Is everyone settled down?”

“As much as they can be, with everything going on.”

Hamik sighed heavily as he waved off the acolyte. He was in one of the churches on Menagerie, some of the only buildings big enough to deal with refugees from Atlas until they could find them a more permanent place to stay. 

A ship had arrived a couple of days ago carrying the sorry lot, and since then he’d been on his feet from dawn to dusk bringing water, blankets, food, medicine, towels and sheets and ordering around the helpers which dwindled as the sun descended. He couldn’t blame them. It was hard, exhausting work and many of them had been like that themselves mere weeks ago. 

Though for now, most of the people seemed to be doing well. Blankets and pillows piled together for warmth, warm broth and tea being passed around, stories exchanged, a lull was settling over the church, like a mother bird calming her chicks.

“I think I’ll go to my office for a while and try to settle some records.” He spoke to no one in particular and headed for the room.

He stopped by the basin to wash his hands and face and looked in the mirror, where he saw a tall man with curly black hair, branching antlers and brown eyes. He had olive skin and broad, kind features, a few lines... Not exactly a spring colt. 

Hamik put the cloth away and sat down with the papers. What he did was arduous work but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Helping these poor souls and honoring the Gods was his calling, and he was happy living a simple life for others benefit. It really wasn’t as lonely as people made it out to be. In fact it was the opposite. He spent his days surrounded by people, who often shared their stories and wisdom with him, children, who looked to him as a guardian, or settled elders, who saw in him hope and someone continuing their work.

“Hamik?”

Naomi had just entered the room and he looked up at her. She was the official leader and founder of the church, past sixty but trim and active as could be. Tanned skin, smoky hair that was nearly always tangled around her horns, bright eyes framed by glasses and a dark blue robe with golden holly embroideries, but her ever present coy smile was absent. Something was wrong.

“What is it?” He put his papers aside and stood. 

“Someone has died, they’re in the main hall.”

“I’ll... come out in a moment.”

There was a part of this work he hated however, dealing with death. It seemed to follow refugees from Atlas like an icy, silver ghost that never tires and never will rest until it has a poor soul in its clutches. 

Naomi nodded and walked out to do her own part, or perhaps to turn in for the night. She couldn’t stay up as much as a younger Faunus.

After a few deep breaths and many times counting the flowers in the window, he walked in the room where Noami told him the body was. 

It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened, as uncommon as it thankfully was. An older priestess holding a wrapped bundle, a basket full of bloody sheets and towels, a sheet covering the body, the scent of poultices and medicine. He had known the woman a little. 

Her name was Mara. She was tall and delicate like a doe with her golden eyes and black hair full of ringlets. She had arrived with the others, heavily pregnant and scared for her life, and her baby’s life. Hamik talked to her and tried his best to be reassuring and help in the appropriate measure. He wasn’t a midwife after all.

But enough dwelling. He needed to deal with this.

This was a senseless death brought upon by the cruelty of others, but he couldn’t say those words to the distressed midwife and the other priestesses in the room who had helped. So he settled on sweet yet honest words, his specialty. 

“We didn’t know Mara too well, but she was still one of our people, so it’s our duty to bury her with dignity and care for her child. We’ll hold the memorial service for her tomorrow, along with our other dead. For now, clean up here and get the body ready. How’s the baby?”

“She’s small, a lot smaller than other babies, but if she’s cared for well, there’s no reason for her not to make it.”

A baby girl then. She needed someone experienced, and Hamik knew just the right person. 

“That’s good at least. I know someone who can feed and look after her.”

The priestess nodded and handed him the little bundle. The little girl’s eyes were open, and as golden as her mother’s were. Upon a closer look, she was the spitting image of the woman who had died bringing her here. 

He gently tucked her in the folds of his robes and walked outside. Nights could get cold in Menagerie, and it was such a night. All the priest wanted was to give the baby to the Doica he had in mind and get this over with.

Good thing the house wasn’t too far, a cozy cabin that doubled as a clinic during day hours. Hamik knocked on the door and looked down at the baby in his arms. She had fallen asleep.

The door opened and in front of him was the woman he’d been looking for. Dahlia was short, stout, with a face worn by the sun and hard work. She was wearing a tunic, trousers and a knitted vest that seemed to be all pockets and had her own infant on her hip. The two of them were close and people often thought they were siblings as they looked a lot alike, and they both had antlers. One had to look closely to see Hamik was a stag and Dahlia a reindeer.

“You need me to take care of her?” 

“Yes, I do.”

Without wasting any more time, Dahlia took the little baby in her free arm and invited him inside.

Her house was an odd mix of messy and tidy, jars of medicine, boxes, bundles of dried herbs, various trinkets from pebbles to sewing needles and other objects were strewn around every available surface but with purpose, one could tell by how easily she found some leaves and flowers and tossed them on the pot of water hung over the fireplace. The rug, pillows and seats were all embroidered prettily and the table was already set with cups.

Dahlia put her baby boy in his cradle and sat down, holding the small girl and fiddling with her tunic so the baby could suckle.

“So, what happened?”

Hamik sat and tossed some scraps of paper from his pockets in the fire. “Her mother died. Childbed fever.”

His friend shook her head. She was a skilled healer—and a midwife to boot—but not even she could’ve done anything more than their healers at the church. “Pity, did she get to name this sweet little one?”

“Not from what I know, but her last name was Khan.”

“Hmmm… how about Sienna? It’s a pretty name and it’s a color, to keep the tradition going.”

“Sienna Khan.” He tested the name, how it sounded on his tongue. “I like it. We’ll arrange for a Blessing a month from now, Gods know we could all use a little morale boost.”

He sat there for a while, watching as Dahlia rocked little Sienna back and forth, and set her down in the cradle next to Nikolai before politely declining her offer to stay the night and going home. 

He had a memorial speech to write.

•⊰━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━⊱•

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this first chapter, leave you thoughts in the comments.


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